


donor-bound

by headstudents



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Single Parent AU, it turned into some met on a plane au, jilychallenge, tbh it doesn't really have that much to do with jane the virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headstudents/pseuds/headstudents
Summary: JILYCHALLENGE MAY 2018: based on a prompt “so you’re telling me you’ve artificially inseminated me with sperm from a guy who never called me back after our first and only date? well fuck" | Jane the virgin au  ( TV SHOW AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am truly sorry for being so late with this, I hope you will still enjoy this.
> 
> (also this turned out to be really long for some reason)

On a day when Lily's life hurls into the biggest heap of life-altering events, her car breaks down. It's not on its own a groundbreaking experience, but it ultimately becomes a reason why her, so-far idyllic, existence comes to an abrupt halt.

Lily Evans has been living a dream. Her version of a dream – to be precise, which is a version her sister would without a shade of doubt disagree with. Unfortunately for Petunia, Lily is at the point in her life where she's beyond caring what she thinks about anything.

Their last meeting, five years ago, ended poorly. The rift between them, steadily growing over the years, came to head when Lily, in bad temper, viciously broke her favourite vase, and Petunia, in clinical retaliation, broke her heart. They haven't seen one another since.

Lily won't deny missing her sometimes. The sister who entertained her with tales about fairies on bad days, who without a moment of hesitation pushed Jay Baker's sorry arse into the pod because in his nine year's old mind he thought that hair pulling is a good way to make friends.  
  
Sadly that Petunia is long gone, and the person who replaced her became overtly judgemental and unnecessarily cruel, and Lily has no intention to keep people in her life who have no desire to be there.

She wants nothing to do with Petunia who claims her son is an abomination.

Maybe if she chose to remain in a loveless relationship, instead of spreading her legs in front of a doctor, things with Petunia would go differently. Or maybe she's just fooling herself thinking that Petunia needs a reason to act like a twat.

Harry's the sweetest little boy if anyone thinks otherwise they can frankly go and fuck themselves.

As far as Lily is concerned her son is perfect. Even when she finds herself complaining in the kitchen from exhaustion because his restless, never-ending energy went to overdrive that day and decided to make it hot for her. It's all a beauty of parenthood. She accepted it a long time ago, and she wouldn't take back a single moment.

She's always wanted to be a mum. Ever since the cotton-candy filled days she's spent playing with Petunia, holding the broken doll with spent batteries close to her chest, she felt that it's only a matter of time these childhood fantasies turn to quiet dreams of an adolescent. It took years before they finally transformed into the actual plan she was ready to set in motion.

She promised herself that she wouldn't make any rash decisions, not until she's absolutely certain she's ready for it, but when her career took an unexpected turn and within few months her part-time job as a copywriter landed her in a client chair of one of the biggest publishing houses in London, she knew it's her sign to go after what she really wanted.

She briefly considered asking one of her male best friends to aid her – she knows some unbelievably good-looking specimens and they would never pass an opportunity to have a wank, especially for a good cause – but the legal and moral complications of such choice were enough to make her quickly discard the idea.

Doctor consultations, countless hours of counselling, months of searching for the right donor, and now, almost four years later, every morning she gets to see the sweetest face in the world.  
  
Harry is the best choice she's ever made. His one smile is worth all the too-polite smiles from everyone who hears about how he came to be, all the sleepless nights filled with worry, even all the Petunia's taunting and mocking she's ever had to endure.

Doctor Trelawney in her tiny sickeningly beige-coloured office all the way over in Birmingham prepared her for all the worst case scenarios – miscarriage, premature birth, OHSS, and after Harry was born, how and when to tell him the truth.

What she didn't prepare her for was meeting her baby daddy.

Choosing the donor was an illuminating experience. After all, sperm never regularly featured as an item on her everyday shopping list. The whole process felt beyond bizarre to her at first, she never even used a dating site, and she was basically asking a stranger to knock her up, but with Trewanley's help, she learnt to embrace this weirdness and focus on the endgame.

Perhaps calling the donor a stranger is quite an oversimplification. The website did provide her with eight pages of a very detailed description including numerous adorable baby pictures and heartfelt letters to the possible offspring.

Following doctor's recommendation, she narrowed her choices down to three candidates.

Candidate number one named Carl was standing at decent 180 cm and shared her blood type and eyes shape. He was thoroughly described as a calm and smiling young man. His deep brown eyes gleamed at her through the screen, and her mind spiralled down the road of dreams full of little babies with red hair and brown eyes. In his handwritten note, he put ardent words about what he valued in life and what he hoped his child will as well. Carl sounded like the kind of a bloke she'd love to date, but she wasn't looking for a date.

Barim, her second candidate, could boast about seven extra centimetres over Carl and his baby blues and dimpled cheeks kept her glued to the screen for much longer than any other donor. Barim was a very active fella who liked to spent his free time cooking, biking, doing trail runs, swimming and some more, enough to make her feel dejected about being so inactive for years. His ambition in life was to become a CEO at his own company and change the world. Barim was the kind of a guy who she'd vote for. Barim was a perfect choice, but ultimately not hers.

No.

She chose a guy who in his letter wrote a lengthy commentary to his rendition of _Go the Distance_ from Disney's Hercules which she found recorded in his audio interview. She chose a guy who raged how underrated that movie is and how the only obligation in life his child should have is to possess a good movie taste; a guy who admitted that he had an insane crush on Megara and the muses (who didn't). She chose a guy who doodled little storks on his note. She chose a guy who called himself Prongs, who held an Art History Degree and looked like he immensely enjoyed a little mischief when he was a child.

She chose a guy she's about to meet. Again, apparently.

 

 -------------

 

Last week was filled with meetings, hastily ironed shirts and few anxiety attacks. She's never been without Harry for so long but she had to leave him with Mary in Scotland because the poor thing would bore himself out of his mind and drive her spare on the occasion.

She's partially glad that her car broke down. Otherwise, it would take her at least seven hours to get there, and that's few hours too many for her. She misses Harry like crazy and in her preference, the fastest way to get to him sounds best.

Lily doesn't fly all that often, something about being stuck in a metal contraption with complete strangers makes her heart unpleasantly lurch, but when she has no better option available, she prides herself on always managing to reserve a window seat, which in her humble opinion is the best seat anyone can get.

After spending more time than she should in the airports' bathroom, calming herself about the flight, Lily quickly broads the plane and goes to take her seat, 16E, only to find that there's already someone sitting in the window seat. _Her_ window seat.

Perplexed at the sight before her she clears her throat, but the man keeps on scrolling through his phone as if he hasn't just committed the biggest faux-pas a person can commit on a plane.

It's personally one of her biggest fears. The mere thought of accidentally taking someone else' seat – whether it's at the cinema or a chair at a restaurant – makes her palm sweat, which is why she wants to deal with this as quickly and painlessly as possible.

However, all her humming and hawing evades the sneaky seat stealer. Prompted by the lack of a reaction, she lets out a faint theatre-worthy cough – she always knew those drama lessons would pay up, no matter what everyone said – and clears her throat again, in hope of eliciting any kind of a response.

This time she succeeds, and he raises his head so swiftly that it has her wondered if anything cracked in there.

For the first time, she takes in his appearance: bright hazel eyes twinkling beneath the shock of coal-black hair, stylish glasses perched on his almost too long nose, a left corner of his lips slowly lifts revealing a cute dimple that makes his face look more boyish. At first, he seems bewildered to see her standing there as if he didn't expect anyone else on this flight, but quickly his brows briefly frown and she sees the glint of recognition pass across his features.

"Evans? Lily Evans? Is that you?" he asks with a broad grin, and her stomach drops.

When she was booking the tickets her mind went through all the plausible disastrous ends of this flight, even an appearance of wild Adam Sandler who'd come to profess his love to some unfortunate soul, but it didn't foresee this one.

This is some Hallmark movie script coming to life.

She tightly closes her eyes, and momentarily considers pinching herself before opening them again, because this cannot be happening. She's certainly seeing things, she's overtired and stressed, her motion sickness medicine has some serious side effects.

But no, her eyes play no tricks on her, right there, on her window seat – 16E to be exact – there sits a man with an older, more structured, a few shades darker face of her sweet boy.

"Y-yes, this is she," Lily swallows, trying to push back the ginormous lump that seems to have lodged itself in her throat, and is making her sound like she's smoking cigarettes for breakfast. "I mean me. Evans, Lily Evans. Hullo."

She cringes at the vociferous sound of her own voice. "And who are you?"

The man responds cheerfully, "Potter. James Potter. We know each other."

 _That's an understatement_ , she thinks.

"We do?" she asks, glad to hear that her voice returned to a more pleasant tone.

"We sure do. We've spent a good portion of our tumultuous adolescent together," he says with a firm nod of his head.

Growing up in a relatively large town with a little over fifteen thousand citizens (as of 2014), Lily's not going to pretend that she knows everyone that has ever lived in Cokeworth. Still, he claims to know her, but his name – a very lovely name, masculine yet soft that she suddenly inexplicably yearns to whisper somewhere in the dark – tells her absolutely nothing; apart from the fact that it has been clearly too long since she had an opportunity to release some tension.

As a teenager, she's only been gallivanting in two places. As she excludes her smog-dimmed hometown, that leaves her with only one other option, that doesn't seem remotely possible to her.

She narrows her eyes at him, suspiciously, "Nice try, mate, but I went to girls-only school in Scotland."

"Called Hoggins, right?" he peered at her from behind his glasses. "Well, as it happens I attended Wards. Our schools were separated by this huge park. Don't tell me you don't remember _The Forbidden Forest_." At her silence, he urges on without malice, "I know it's been over a decade but surely your memory can't be that bad."

Lily watches him, puzzled, trying to put a name to a face, but all she sees is Harry.

It's been a decade since she finished school and only vaguely recalls something from that time. Noting her gobsmacked expression, he gives her a sheepish grin and shrugs, his face turning a faint red.

"I'm sorry, I just assumed you'd remember." He briefly pauses for a moment and looks up at her with an odd look in his eyes, "On second thought maybe it's better if you don't."

Unsure how to respond to that she takes the empty seat beside him, completely forgetting about the window situation.

She's not a fan of awkward silences, and she senses that if she won't say something now, they'll spend the next hour feeling uncomfortable about that meeting. She allows herself one quick glance at him. His strong profile eerily matches with the one of a little boy that undoubtedly is eagerly waiting for her at the airport. A rush of tenderness sweeps over her as her eyes trail over his sharp nose, down to his thin mouth softened by a touch of a weak smile, until they settle on his jaw and as it twitches, something jolts something inside her.

Embarrassed, she turns away only to find a petite flight attendant smiling at her knowingly. She returns her a mindless smile and giggles to herself at the ridiculousness of this entire situation. Her seat was brazenly stollen – she assumes – by a man who is a picture perfect of her son, and the aforementioned man claims to know her. He is also remarkably attractive, and she's managed to make him regret ever opening his mouth within the first few minutes since she's known him, or so she thinks if the way his jaw still clenches can serve an any indication; and the flight attended who believes Lily is some lecherous tart who is going to shag a stranger on her plane (which isn't an unfair assumption albeit still unrealistic).

Her chuckles must have drawn him out of his reverie because he snaps his head in her direction, raising his eyebrows in question.

Lily rubs her forehead, feeling abashed. Then she asks, "So, how have you been?"

He slings her a brilliant grateful smile, "Quite brilliant actually. After uni, I lived with my mum's family in Greece for a while. Recently, I started my own company. Now, I'm heading to Edinburgh for my mate's wedding. How about you?"

She broke off the engagement to her boyfriend at 21, she published a successful book at 23, she also learned how to pole dance recently. Oh, and she's pretty sure she artificially inseminated herself with his sperm at 25. So pretty normal.

"Good. I've never been to Greece or started my own company, but I did publish a pretty decent book, so there's that."

"Oh, really? Anything I know?" he asks, genuinely curious.

Lily's heart rate doesn't subside from its nervous gallop; the words are gushing out of her in a torrent, "I doubt that. It's a fantasy rom-com about a charming teacher and a witty scientist, there are some magical hijinks involved, multidimensional time-travel, that sort of a thing."

She watches as his eyes widen comically, "You don't mean _The Animagi_ series, do you?"

"Yeah actually," Lily said, beaming up at him. "Wait, you know it?"

A smile twitches at his lips. "Are you having a laugh right now? It's my favourite series." He adds noticing her incredulous grin, "I'm serious here. Josef and Lucy are my next Anne and Gilbert."

She bursts out a loud unabashed laugh at this, drawing the attention of other passengers who started to fill out the plane.

"Alright, don't get me wrong, I know my books are good, but comparing them to L.M Montgomery's work might be a tad too much," she says winking at him.

He cackles a short chuckle and raises his hands in mock surrender, "Hey, I'm just expressing my opinion as a devoted fan."

"Well, in that case – thank you. I appreciate it."

"You're very welcome Lily," his voice soft and sincere, a comforting warmth to her ears.

Their chat is cut short when the plane prepares for the takeoff. She goes through her familiar routine when she feels her ears “pop” as they climb through the altitudes; deep breaths, counting down from thirty, thoughts focused on landing and Harry. Lily almost grabs James's hand as the plane bolts up in the air, pushing her back into the chair. Someone, few seats behind them, is using an inhaler, and Lily recalls she forgot to ask the doctor, who is also coincidentally enough Mary's father if Harry won't need one since she caught him breathing a little funny one night.

A well-known ding sounds through, letting them know the plane has reached the cruising altitude, and Lily's heart returns to a regular beat.

The hum of the engines seems like a calm melody to her now, so she closes her eyes, only to be startled by James who asks without preamble, "So, L.C.Monday is not a real person?"

"What?" she turns her attention to him, baffled.

"That's the name on the cover, and since I know you're the authour I was wondering if..." he trails off.

"Oh, no, no," she catches on. "It's just my pen name. My publisher thought Lily Evans sounds too bland, so I opted to use my mother's maiden name," she explains to him.

"Well, I think it's rubbish." He adds quickly, his hazel eyes boggling, "The publisher! Not your mum's name. Although I think Lily Evans sounds brilliant as well."

She shrugs, "Not to the marketing apparently."

"What does marketing even know?"

"You mean apart from how to make sales pitch using the right words? Not much I imagine."

She joins him in laughter. He has such a lovely laugh, deep and rich, the kind of a laugh she could listen for ages, but it soon dies out when he asks looking almost reluctant to bring it up, "Does this mean that L.C Monday's biography is also not real? There was some mention of living in Scotland, with a husband and kids..."

"Some of it is rubbish."

"Oh," he says, a strange expression flitting across his face. "Which part exactly?"

"The one about Scotland," she says wanting to gloss over the subject of family." And some others."

"Others?" he prods.

"They've got the numbers wrong."

"You've got husbands and a kid?!"

"No. No. Just a kid. And no husband. Not now, and not ever."

"Huh. Maybe one day," he begins. "Crazy things tend to happen in Edinburgh. I once found a pound under the dumpster."

"Really? Wow, lucky you."

"Shut up. I was a student back then, it was a fortune for me."

 

 -------------

 

Apparently, sixty-three minutes is James Potter's limit when it comes to sitting in one place.

After their aimless chat (he's still mates with the same people since he was scrawny eleven-year-old; he attempted to climb Mount Everest when she was in labour; he's also very much single which he very nonchalantly brought into the conversation only three times), they both decide it's the right time to get some work done, pulling out their phones and laptops.

Not more than five minutes later James proclaims he needs to get up to walk around and stretch his legs or he'll go stir crazy.

During the time he's gone, she's managed to check her e-mails. She's got fifteen unread ones. Twelve of these messages are somehow related to her work. There's one from her aunt Milla who keeps forwarding her every Saturday with some inspiring quote; she started doing that after Lily's parents passed, and it's not that Lily's ungrateful about the concern, but for God's sake there's just so much of Paulo Coelho a girl can take.

Since she left for London Mary's mum keeps sending her pictures of Harry – in the park, in the zoo, scraping his knees, eating ice-cream, beaming up at her through the screen; bless her for that because Lily needed her daily dose of that sweet face.

The last one is from Dom, but this one will remain unread, and later on, once they'll land and she'll get to Mary's, she will delete it while drinking her doubts away with few healthy glasses of wine.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but is The Dad still around or did he make the biggest mistake of his life and left?" a voice comes behind her making her jump.

"No, he isn't, but it's a fair bit more complicated than that," Lily says as she tries not to put her hand to her chest and calm her heart to a steadier pace.

"His loss."

"His choice really." Legally speaking, at least until Harry is eighteen years old and gets the right to obtain contact the donor. And then Lily won't have to wonder whether she was correct thinking it was that bloke she met on a plane fifteen years prior.

James gives a noncommittal hum and his fingers start to drum a familiar beat before they disappear in his hair.

"Pleasure or business?"

"Hmm?" she darts her eyes back up from his fingers and notes how thick and dark his limbal ring is, how perfectly it outlines his hazel eyes making them even lighter, almost golden-like, drawing her closer and closer.  
  
"Edinburgh. Are you just passing through?"

She shakes her head, "No, I actually am visiting a friend."

"Oh, that's fun," he slings her another bright, full-teethed smile, and she feels her insides churn.

His fingers make their return to the armrest with their insistent drum. This time there's no rhythm to it; it's fast and rough, borderline nail-breaking thudding, and as abruptly it started, just as abruptly it stops.

Frowning she looks up at him only to find him staring at her with a foreign intensity like he's trying to transmit his thoughts to her just by the sheer power of his stare.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, instead, he closes his eyes, gulps some air and then he says in a rush as if he might actually burst if he holds it in for any longer, " Alright, it's been bugging me since I saw you, but I have a confession to make."

Lily's overactive imagination is having a feast upon his words; it set down candles, nice new tablecloth, and waits for him to sit down and eat her alive.

"School is not the only place I know you from," he cracks one eye open, the rest of his face twists in a grimace.

Oh, God.  
  
He knows.

Somehow there's been a leak in clinic's database, someone decided to go all Lisbeth Salander on their firewalls and hardware (she admits she knows nothing about computers, apart from the most important action of turning it on and off), and he found out, booked the same flight as she, and... – and, and what?

He's not going to push her out of the plane, that's for sure because (point a) that's insane and bloody unlikely and (point b) even if he'd tried to, overlooking the fact she might be on the shorter side, she's scrappy and he's a lean streak of nothing (a very fit nothing with forearms to die for) so she could probably take him.

There's the possibility he was counting on snapping a picture of her getting frisky with a stranger in the loo after her inhibitions would go down thanks to stress-reducing liquor spree. Child custody solicitors love pictures like that.

Yet, there's something telling her he wouldn't do that. Lily is uncertain where this conviction is coming from – considering she's known him for a tad more than an hour, but somehow thinking ill about him feels unjust, and she's not the type of a person who judges others because her mind decided to go on a spiral.

"I don't know if you don't mention it because you're being tactful about the whole thing or you actually don't remember anything," he goes on, completely unaware of the turmoil he causes her. "But I can just sit here and pretend."

Her heart knocks frantically against her ribs like a fly in a room with no exits and letting it out is not an option, lest it will use the nearest window as an escape route, and she has no intentions in orphaning her son.

"Oh." This is all her brilliant, awarded mind gives her after she's been feeding with all the slimy oily fish and other beans and seeds for months.

"So how about I'll just say it, and " a deep sighing breath leaves his mouth and it is doing nothing to alleviate his tension or his twitch. "You let me apologise?"

Wait? Wha – apologise?

"Here it goes." He turns sideways in his seat as he speaks, " Notting Hill."

He says it with such a resign as if he's just announced that her husband didn't make it through the operation, and he did his best to save him.

"What?" she looks at him quizzically, then quickly recovers in the next heartbeat. "What are you on about?"

"Notting Hill. The one in London."

"Yes, I know where Notting Hill is." She did live there for a while after all. "What does this have to do with us?"

James squints his eyes at her as if he's assessing the authenticity behind her nonplus.

"You honestly don't remember anything? It couldn't be more than five years ago."

He continues when she shakes her head no. " During the year when I graduated from uni I was...let's just say going through some things. Nothing illegal, or anything, but it had me down for a while, so my mate Remus suggested I take a breather and in meantime, he set me up on a date with this girl from his study group – I think her name was Eva or something like that."

Lily imagines Eva as a bosomy blue-eyed blonde who is into charity work when she finds time between studying her shapely arse off to obtain a law degree and browsing through Lounge Lingerie website. Everyone loves Eva, she's kind, a right hoot when the opportunity calls, and she knows all the dirty jokes to entertain James's friend with when he leaves her with them going to the loo.

Fucking Eva and her stretch-marks-free body.

"He gave me her number, we fixed a time and a place. The day comes, I put on a new shirt, spray a fair bit of Axe, buy some flowers from around the corner, get to the Portobello Road half an hour early and I wait. And then I wait some more, one hour, two, three, enough to feel cold and pathetic – she doesn't come."

Eva also apparently serves part-time as a bloody idiot. How unfortunate.

"My first date in a while and I get stood up. I remember standing there with those stupid daisies, freezing my bits off and cursing Remus to Dante's hell for trying to help a lost cause like me," he smiles and gives a little shrug, and a sudden urge to hold him close to her bosom appears.

"However," the same smile that seemed so sad to her a moments ago, now looks more shy and affectionate. "Sometimes bad things end on a good note. As I'm about to give up completely and head home to wallow in solitude, I spot a familiar face in the crowd." He leans into her and lowers his voice "It was you by the way."

"But I don't –"

"Yes, I know you don't remember me from school – and trust me when I say it might be a blessing because I was an arrogant little berk in my youth – but back then, at Notting Hill, you either did remember or you were just kind enough to pretend that you did, when you saw what a deeply miserable sod was heading your way."

She cuts herself some slack for not remembering him from school, if memory serves her right there are roughly over four hundred boys at Wards each year, she has a right to not recall one face, even if it's incredibly fit one. Especially since she's spent her last few years at Hoggins experiencing the pleasure of Stefano Chaves's rugby-formed goods.

(Mmmm...Stefano...)

She asks him when The Notting Hill debacle happened. He pretends to think hard before answering. As soon as he answers something jolts at the back of her mind.

_December of 2012._

A lot of things had happened in December of 2012. There was Mary who persistently tried to convince to do various questionable things under the pretext of the end of the world; there was Dom who clearly misunderstood the meaning of their post-breakup one night stand (a mess she can only blame herself for); and of course her book, her first published book, which completely out-of-nowhere turned out to be quite successful and ultimately set a new path in her life.

"I asked you on a whim if you'd like to accompany me on a walk around the Kyoto Garden, and you in all your generosity agreed. We've spent a truly lovely, beyond lovely, night together and when we parted I promised to call you, but I never did."

He bows his head ruefully, and his fingers grip the strands of his hair yet again and she's got solid plans to break those damn things if he does it again.

Finally, he looks back at her. "There's no explanation for such appalling behaviour. My mum would take all my gas money if she knew. So please, accept my apologies."

Is he for real? He's sitting there apologising for something that happened years ago, something that might not show him in the best light, but it's not the worst that's ever happened to her, meanwhile, she doesn't even recognise him.

Lily waves him off. " Don't be ridiculous, you've got nothing to be sorry for."

"But I –"

"No, I won't heart it," she states firmly. "It's been ages ago, and I'm a firm believer in letting bygones be bygones."

"Oh my God, really?" palpable relief shudders through him, and his entire body visibly relaxes in his seat.

She bites her bottom lip down to withhold the laughter that threatens to escape her at his reaction.

"Really, really. How does a fresh start sound like?"

A huge bright grin that appears on his face makes him look even more like Harry than ever, and something ugly twists inside her.

"It sounds brilliant. I love fresh things: fruits, air, sheets," he clears his throat awkwardly and cuts her a quick glance. "How about I'll start?"

"Hi, I'm James." He's smiling at her, his eyes soft, and his hand extended waiting for her to accept, "Huge fan."

She stares down at his limb like it has all the answers to ending of the Inception and she's not sure if she's ready for them.

His hand feels wonderfully right when enveloped around much smaller that belongs to her.

"Hi, I'm Lily." Mother of your son. "Nice to meet you."

 

\-------------

  
Lily escapes their little bubble under the pretence of his fidgetiness being contagious, and darts straight into the lavatory in hope that the coffee smell will make her thoughts more sombre from the daze that this flight has put her in.

She needs to reevaluate the situation she's in.

She was supposed to take her car and drive from London to Edinburgh to pick up Harry from Mary's. The old piece of junk graced her with its last breath just as she was about to leave the city, so forced to use an alternative form of travel – and Benjy's help with the car – she booked the earliest flight she could.

She was looking forward to spending an hour working on some drats, instead, she got...James.

Lovely James.

He blindsided her sitting there in the seat, she still believes belongs to her, and looking so much like Harry.

Now, come to think about it, maybe they don't look as much alike as she initially thought they do, maybe she subconsciously assumed they do because her brain recognised him from that night in Notting Hill, adding it all to the fact she hasn't seen Harry for a week (pictures and video calls don't count), and she can feel her mind deterring away from sanity.

If there only was some objective individual who'd look at her current predicament with a sharp eye and unafraid would blast her with a cold hard truth straight in the face, politely of course.

Unfortunately, she's stuck in a plane full of strangers, so there's no prospect of obtaining such a – oh, right; she's so clueless sometimes.

"I have an odd question for you," Lily accosts the same blonde attendant that was smirking at her as they were taking off.

She lifts her gaze, and tentatively smiles, "How can I help?"

"No, you don't understand, when I say odd, I mean _odd_ ," she accentuates, throwing a sneaky glance in James's direction that he easily catches as his eyes were on her since she left the loo.

"How odd exactly?" the attendant – Marlene, her reads tag – replies in a stage whisper.

She hesitates. "Enough for you to have a great anecdote for the other flight attendants," she says after a while.

Marlene perks up and grants her with a sincere grin, "How can I say no to that?"

"Brill." She starts, reaching for her pocket. "I'm going to show you a picture on my phone and you, subtly, looking at the man on a seat next to mine – subtly! Jesus, lady please," she implores as Marlene promptly turns around. "You'll tell me if the boy on that picture and him look anything alike, alright?"

She takes a deep breath and shoves her phone under Marlene's nose. There's a brief pause – a gut-wrenching pause – as Marlene studies the picture, briefly awing at her son (as she should because he's bloody adorable), then surprisingly inconspicuously glances at James and then back again at her phone, repeating the movement several times. At last, she stops and looks at Lily saying flatly, "As like as two peas in a pod."

A loud brush curse springs from her mouth, startling Marlene and earing her few less than pleasant glares from the other passengers.

She flashes them an awkward smile in acknowledgement, and promptly darts out of their eyesight.

"Fuck, fucking fuck fuck fuck" she realises starts to sound like a broken rubber duck. "Fucking Hercules, and the whole fucking Disney, and his fucking doodles!"

"Umm... ma'am, are you having some sort of a breakdown?" When Lily doesn't respond, the blonde carries on, "If you are, I'd kindly ask you to postpone it until after we land."

Lily stares at her, incredulous, " _You'd kindly ask me to postpone it?_  Seriously?"

The girl sighs and draws a bit closer. "Listen, this is my last day on this job, I just want this plane to land, take my shit and drown my sorrows in the furthest pub from the airport as it's possible. So please, pretty please, go back to your seat and wait few more minutes. After we're on the ground I'll even buy you a drink myself and you can tell all about why you have baby pictures of other passengers, hm?"

Lily opens her mouth, aghast at the suggestion, but quickly closes it realising that the truth is even more madcap.

"Very well, but only because you helped me earlier," she responds loftily, and turns around.

"What was that all about?" James asks before she reaches her seat.

"Toilet paper is gone," she says wretchedly.

"Already? It's a one hour flight."

"Right? I was so glad when my car broke down. I thought I will see Harry sooner, but now I'm stuck in the air with no toilet paper."

"Is that your son? Harry?"

"Umm, yep. Harry," she says dropping her eyes.

"Why Harry?" he asks.

He doesn't need to know she named her son after a character in her favourite movie, so she lies. "It's a family name," she says, wringing her hands.

"No shit. Same for me. It was my grandpa's name. Never met him, but he was allegedly a stand-up guy. His name was actually Henry. But everyone knew him as Harry. Harry Potter. Sounds good, doesn't it?"

Dammit, it does.

She hums noncommittally waiting for Captain's announcement about the time and weather, and most importantly how much longer until they actually touch the ground.

She doesn't have to wait for long, soon a voice informs they are about to start their descent. She securely fastens her seat belt noticing from the corner of her eye James doing the same. Shortly after the _No Smoking_ sign blinks indicating the landing clearance.

"Ladies and gentlemen," flight attendant's voice comes on over the intercom, "We have just been cleared to land at the Edinburgh airport. Please make sure one last time your seat belt is securely fastened. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you."

Lily reaches to her jeans pocket to dig out some gum, usually, it helps her to alleviate the pressure that comes with the landing.

The plane touches down with a short jolt, and then the engines start to idle and the plane slows down pretty fast.

While they're waiting for the plane to decompress, Lily tries to stare down the _Fasten Seat Belt_ sign into turning off, so she could check if Mary texted her that she and Harry are already at the gate. A light tap on the shoulder stirs her, and she turns to see James who is smiling gently down at her, "I was just wondering if there's anyone waiting for you at the airport." He continues when she raises her eyebrow at him, " Because my mate is coming to collect me, and I'm sure there would be no issue if you wanted to hitch a ride with us."

"Thanks for the offer, but my friend brings my son and they are probably already bouncing up in the anticipation at the gate, and by they I mean mostly Mary."

The sound of their laughter gets swallowed by the ruckus of other passengers leaving the plane.

As she pops open the overhead compartment to pull out her carry-on a sudden thought occurs her – within the next few minutes Harry and James are going to be in the same vicinity. James will for sure see Harry running up to her for a hug, and he'll take one good look at him and then he'll know, and then Mary, oh, God, Mary will lose her shit. Ever since the early days of the artificial insemination business Mary – an avid soap opera viewer – was convinced that Harry's dad will turn out to be some handsome prince of small European country like Genosha who in act of rebellion against the monarchy decided to wank off into to the cup.

"Are you alright?" James's concerned voice reaches her ears.

She looks up at him and wonders how different her life would be like if she had taken a bus instead. On the other hand, perhaps she was always meant to be in this place at the same time as he; perhaps this was fate's work all along – nudging her into inevitable; perhaps this will turn out to be nothing and they'll have quite a laugh about the whole thing.

"Yeah," she laughs softly biting down on her lip, "I believe it will be. No matter what."

James's quizzical look tells her he's not buying her offhanded lie but for now, he chooses not to press and sidesteps her to head towards the way out.

As she watches his head (and his rather firm bum) disappear from her eyesight, she realises she's way more excited about the incoming outcome than she initially thought.

It must be all that Irn-Bru Bars she ate in the hotel. Nothing makes her braver than a spoonful of sugar and chemicals.

With few deep breaths and smile on her face, she follows James out to into brisk Scotland's weather.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a lawyer, so mistakes were probably made.
> 
> Also, I went absolutely crazy with brackets. There are brackets EVERYWHERE.

Deep breath in and happy thoughts.

Happy thoughts like – Julie Andrews.

 _Yes_. That's a happy, calming thought.

_Julie Andrews on evergreen hills of Austria._

Good.

_Julie Andrews on evergreen hills of Austria calling out to her in that sweet, melodious voice._

Better.

_Julie Andrews on evergreen hills of Austria calling out to her in that sweet, melodious voice and then holding her close to her warm bosom._

Almost there.

_Julie Andrews on evergreen hills of Austria calling out to her in that sweet, melodious voice and then holding her close to her warm bosom while also gently caressing her hair and whispering exactly what she needs to hear._

There it is.

_Murder, dear Lily, no matter how justifiable, is still very much illegal and you wouldn't adjust to the life in prison very well, so you better find a different way to release your pent-up frustrations._

And breathe out.

Thanks, Jules.

Lily takes another few deep breaths ( _inandout_ _inandout_ _inandout_ ) and sets the scissors back on the counter. Picking at her split ends with sharp objects might not be the best idea in her current state, lest she might accidentally stab Mary in the eye with it. (She has no clue how that happened, officer. One minute the scissors were in her hand and in the next Mary lies, bleeding out on her lovely hardwood floor).

She's jesting.

(Mostly).

She's aware deep down, under all that anxiety and restless nights, that Mary is not entirely here to blame. Scottish weather is a bitch.

A predictable bitch nevertheless.

So when your Scotland's born and raised father tells you "it's a wee bit mochie outside" and you ought to "pit a bonnet on th' boy's heid" (that's not how Mary's father talks but Lily's not a successful writer because she avoids exaggeration), then it would be considered logical, _responsible_ even, to listen the old man's sound advice.

Unfortunately, it's 2018 – an even-numbered year, and every second even-numbered year Mary's parents go through, what she likes to call, The Lover's Quarrel Phase.

Their fights just like the storms in the south of Vietnam come in fast, with little more than a few moments of a cold gust of wind as a warning; they don't last particularly long either, hence Mrs Macdonald's hasty return home from Biên Hòa a week ago. (Although that may have more to do with her desire to escape incoming rain season that torrid love she feels for her husband).

Mary in a true rebellion suited for almost thirty-year-old woman spats and hisses at both of them at every opportunity, which is why she ignored her father's helpful input.

So it should be understandable why Lily has been fighting the urge to throttle her for the past few days.

She left the plane with a heavy heart dreading the inevitable clash of expectations and the reality of her assumptions. Her worries turned out unnecessary, as James didn't see Harry.

Neither did Lily.

At the airport, she was greeted by the sight of anxiously pacing Mary's mum who with an apologetic smile on her face explained the absence of LIly's two favourite people.

Lily didn't even turn around to say her farewells to James as she dashed through the airport ramming people who were standing in her way. (She had a mission to accomplish – her sweet ailing boy was waiting for her in clutches of irresponsible godmother).

Luckily she didn't need to worry about losing touch with James. They've exchanged numbers before exiting a plane, and have been eagerly texting with each other for the past week. He expressed his concern over Harry's well being when she told him that they can't meet this week, (it absolutely did not make Lily feel warm all over) and complained about his mates as they were failing to fulfil the groom's — or as James informed her — groom's mother's demands.

To be perfectly honest, The James Situation sort of deferred to a background noise as she needed to take care of her feeble boy. Everyone is cranky when they're not feeling well, especially energetic three-year-olds. Fortunately, Harry mostly sleeps through his fever and when he's awake he requires cuddles and snuggles which Lily is always more than willing to provide.

Since she and Mary have been going through few silent days, poor Helen — freshly rested from her trip to Vietnam — was obliged to listen to her cries and grievances.

Her recommendation was to reach some legal advice from her old friend who is a law professor at a nearby university before deciding on anything.

Clever and helpful people those Macdonalds.

With the exception of Mary, who despite the fact of being uninvited into this particular conversation, let her positively tingling drama sense lure her into the kitchen under the pretence of washing the dishes – which she still didn't do. Instead, she shared with them her brilliant idea of obtaining James's DNA for a paternal test by kidnapping him using an old mp3 player, a bunch of hair bands, four pints of milk and thermometer.

Where's that red blinking thing from _Men in Black_ when a woman needs it? 

She made the call to the university this morning and set the visit for the day after tomorrow, knowing that whatever Professor McGonagall is going to say, ultimately the decision will belong to her.

In all honesty, Lily is mostly embarrassed about this whole ordeal. She met a charming bloke on a plane who sort-of-kind-of-at-a-right-angle looks like her son and she immediately jumped to the one possible conclusion: here he is, the baby daddy!

What is the matter with her?

For her benefit, the Eleanor Shellstrop look-alike of a flight attendant also noted the similarities between James and her son. Although Lily has a hunch that she, just like Mary, is relying more on drama than on oxygen in order to survive.

Also, there's the matter of the files. The donor's files.

Once Harry started to feel a bit better and sleeping through nights more easily she took the opportunity to reread them again.

All the information about the donor is basically burnt into her memory by now.

His impressive height (she mostly saw James sitting but those few instances when he was standing he seemed tall, like _really_ tall, taller than her at least, although that's not exactly an accomplishment since height is not something she can brag about); the colour of his hair (black, truly properly black, no "dark brown" bullshit) and his eyes (gorgeously hazel). James mentioned repeatedly on the plane that his mother comes from Greece, and it checks out with the donor's ethnicity (English/Greek). Neither of them is Caucasian (James's deliciously tawny skin is anything but). Both are also educated in Arts.

Lily would gladly drop all this insanity the second they landed, but there are too many things that identify James as the potential donor for it all to just be a coincidence.

Her mind is spiralling, and she already used Julie's help today. She needs some change of pace, some innocent distraction to temporarily focus on.

Almost as if on cue from the corner of her peripheral vision, Lily discerns some movement, shifting her position, she can feel the joints cracking in her back as she moves her shoulders around.

At the kitchen's entrance teetering around stands Mary, waving something that looks like a pair of white lacey knickers.

"What on bloody earth are you doing?" Lily asks turning completely around.

"I'm calling a truce," Mary informs her as if it should be obvious.

Lily raises her brow, sceptical. "With your flimsy undergarments?"

"Don't pretend you're not into it."

Not wanting to give her satisfaction of eliciting a laugh out of her, Lily bites down on her cheek. "Is it at least clean a pair?"

She opens her mouth to say something but then decides against it and instead raises the delicate material to her nose and takes a sniff. "Clean enough for you," she says throwing it at Lily's face.

"Gross," Lily catches it between her thumb and pointer finger, setting it aside.

"Says a woman who keeps her vibrator in an empty Pringles can," Mary's voice muffled by the fridge's door as she dives in before pulling out the rest of the chicken that's left after Lily tortured him yesterday making chicken soup.

"Where else am I supposed to keep it?" Lily asks confused. Hiding it there, she genuinely believed it was a Buzzfeed article worthy example of DIY craftsmanship.

Mary turns around to give her one of her _are you for real?_ looks. "In a fucking drawer, like the rest of the world does?"

"What if someone would find it there?" Lily's aghast at the suggestion.

"How often do people look through your drawers? Besides, an empty Pringles can that you shoved under the bed, is not exactly Fort Knox either. "

"It works perfectly well for me, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself," Mary says starting to slice the ginger into coins. "I didn't come here to listen to your questionable sexual habits."

"They're not – "

"I came here to talk about The Baby Daddy Situation."

"Ugh..." Lily hides her head in my arms. "Don't call it like that."

"Like you don't call it like that."

She looks up at Mary with pure dismay painted on her face, "Yeah, in my head, not out loud."

Mary merely rolls her eyes on response setting the pot on the cooker, then she turns to look at her expectantly. "So...?"

"What?" Lily asks innocently, deluding herself that she can escape this talk, especially when she catches the glint of determination in Mary's eyes.

"Do you want to know my opinion or not?"

"Do I ever?"

"I honestly haven't the faintest why you're overthinking this. There are two quick and easy solutions here."

Lily sighs frustrated and shakes her head no, "That's the thing, they're not."

"Yes, they are. You either tell him or you–"

"No, they are not," Lily cuts her off, raising her voice a bit and enunciates each word. "That's what you don't understand. There are layers to each option, alright? Inception levels of layers."

"Oh, dear god, not this fucking movie again," Mary mutters under her breath. "Alright Ariadne, walk me through."

Lily glares at her. "Fuck off."

"I'm trying to help you. I saw you with that scissors," she says nodding at the counter. "You're wound so tight you're going to snap any minute."

Letting out a long sigh Lily groans, "Fine." Then she wags an accusatory finger at her friend, "But no more crazy ideas from you."

Mary waves her off, moving to the sink to wash her hands.

She clears her throat and begins, "So there's an option where I could just drop the subject, forget all about it."

"Unrealistic if you ask me."

"In fact," Lily continues, ignoring her, "I could never speak to James again. And fifteen years from now it will turn out that my assumptions were wrong, and he's not Prongs."

"Pros and cons."

"The pro is that...um," she pauses biting down on her lower lip as she considers. "I don't make a fool out of myself in front of him and that sometime fifteen years from now on I will be able to sleep peacefully."

"Con?"

"Con is that," she lets out her breath in a deep sigh. "Con is that I'm going to lose my fucking mind because I'm absolutely incapable of dropping this. I can't," she shakes her head vehemently, "I've been trying for the past week and it's eating me alive. I can't text him without feeling guilty. I almost blabbed it out to him making a Darth Vader joke yesterday."

"Pathetic."

"Thanks," Lily says flatly. "There's also an option where I don't ask him and let the contact break, except he does turn out to be the donor. Aaand..." Lily pauses staring off into the distance. "I will never be able to look Harry in the eyes, or James for that matter. So we can scratch that option."

"How about we will just scratch all the options that don't involve you asking him directly right now?"

"No!" Lily says quickly. "There's also another option, one of my favourites, where I don't ask him but take some time to get to know him. You know to see if he isn't some sort of a deviant or secretly Team Ross or something."

"If it's one of your favourites then why are you still debating it?"

"It's just...I don't know. I feel... _dirty_? No, not dirty. God, I'm missing the word," she rubs a hand across her face looking miserable. "It just seems unfair to start anything with him. And by anything," she looks pointedly at Mary, "I don't mean that I expect we will end up married and living in a little cottage on the outskirts of England. Even remaining on a simple acquaintance basis with something like that looming over me is too much. And I don't want to come off to him like some sort of a... mantis."

Mary bursts into a sharp laugh. "A mantis?!"

"You know what I mean, I don't want him to think I've been playing with him this entire time. It's not fair to him, or to me, " she pauses staring at Mary's hands as she keeps on stirring. "Part of me wants to be wrong about this."

"What do you mean?" Mary frowns.

"Things are going to be abundantly more complicated if he does turn out to be the donor."

"How so?"

Lily takes a long pause before speaking, to gather her thoughts and make sure that Mary understands her reasoning. "It's like this. I'm a single mum."

"Yes, I know. You're not the only one in the world."

"Exactly. There's plenty of single mums out there. Too many perhaps. And they struggle every day with parenthood and everything that comes with it and everyone sort of expects them to deal with it because they're mums and that's what mums do. They endure."

"Alright..?" Mary continues to frown, clearly not following her train of thought.

"But most of them are single because that's how their lives played out. I'm a single mum because I made that choice. I didn't have to. I was twenty-five when I started the whole insemination process. That's young. I could have waited, get into a relationship with someone, get back with Dom even, start a family you know 'the traditional way', but I didn't want that. I believed and I still do that I can do this alone."

Mary clears her throat and with a rise of the single delicate brow, she gives her a pointed look.

"Yes, obviously I've included you in the 'alone' spectrum," Lily assures her, rolling her eyes.

"Flattered," she murmurs and goes on to shred the chicken.

"And I think I've been doing a pretty stellar job so far, but I feel like if I pursue this then people will consider me some sort of a traitor."

"A traitor? To whom?"

"I don't know," Lily shrugs helplessly. "The other single mums, my beliefs, the idea of feminism?"

Mary snorts. "That's not what feminism is about."

"No, I know. I just... ", she trails off and adds quietly after a moment, "I don't know, I would hate to prove them right."

"Them?" Mary prompts her.

"You know, the people who think a woman can't raise a child on her own and that every single mum's goal is to catch a husband at the nearest opportunity."

"Oh, right _those_ people."

Lily's too afraid to look up. She knows that Mary watches her with the all-too-knowing look on her face. "And by 'people' do you by any chance mean Petunia?"

Bollocks.

"No," she looks up – there it is. The Look.

Lily sighs. "Yes. Maybe, a little."

"Ten years of friendship and I see right through you."

Stressed she grabs a lock of her hair and has half-mind to start picking at its ends, but Mary quickly slaps her hands away.

"Fuck her. Honestly. I know she's your sister and she'll always be this _thing_ for you but don't let her take this away from you."

She's right, Lily knows that Mary is right. But Mary is an only child with wonderful, supportive, and most important of all, living parents. She couldn't possibly understand Lily's position. She doesn't know how it feels when your family (the only family you have left) doesn't support you, criticizes your every choice neglecting the fact that this is what makes you happy. It takes you a few steps back from your natural pace because sometimes there are moments that happen right before you make a decision where you stop and wonder: maybe if I do this differently they will be proud this time? It's a small compromise. Your own happiness for their acceptance. People sacrifice less.

But the truth is it doesn't matter anymore, and it shouldn't. Lily has a new family; a loving, supportive bunch of weirdos whom she'd steal the moon for. She has Harry. Lily won't let her doubts and insecurities stand in the way of what Harry needs and deserves. She's presented with a unique opportunity to bring into Harry's life someone; someone who would care about him. She doesn't mean to make any assumptions but James agreed to be an open donor, so he must be aware that one day someone may come knocking at his door with some questions. It is a few years earlier that he probably expected but...as James said on the plane – crazy things tend to happen in Edinburgh.

"What? What happened in Edinburgh?"

Lily realizes she must have said that last part out loud.

"Nothing," she replies, smiling to herself.

"So you're asking him?"

"Yes, but what if he's not?"

"You're going in circles love, we've already been over that, but tell me, what are you planning to do if he does turn out to be the donor?"

"I did some googling and apparently, I'm in a unique situation, couldn't find anything solid. But I know, and I'm sure McGonagall will confirm it, James doesn't have any parental rights. He couldn't even fight for them. The only instance where he could be recognised as a parent would be if he adopted Harry and let me assure that that won't happen."

"Won't?" Mary asks teasingly.

Lily glares at her hoping it delivers enough menace to put Mary off inserting such notions into Lily's head. Clearly, just a fool's hope, as she keeps on trying.

"Parental visits?"

"I don't know Mary," she states firmly. It's a discussion I should be having with him."

"Well to do that you have to ask him. And we come back to the bulk of the point."

A faint voice coming from the end of the hallway reaches their ears, "Mummy?"

Lily turns to look at Mary and points over her shoulder, "Forgive me, but I have more pressing matters at this moment."

She quickly jumps off the chair and makes her way down the hall towards the ajar door pushing it open.

There he lays, his head – propped up by a few Avengers-themed pillows – is sticking out from behind a tonne of the softest blankets, his hair a mess, more than usual, plastered to his sweaty forehead in curved dark strands, but his eyes seem more alert that they've been before; a relief sweeps over her.

"Hi, sweetheart," Lily says in a soft voice, sitting down beside him. "How are you doing?

"I'm hungry."

She smiles down at him, brushing off few rogue locks off this forehead. "That's great. Your appetite is coming back, it means you're getting better."

He blinks up at her tiredly and Lily is overcome with a sudden urge to hold him and never let him go. Instead, she asks, "What would you want to eat?"

"Ice cream."

"Ice cream? Hmm," she pauses pretending to consider his suggestion. "How about we make that ice cream chicken-flavoured? And warm."

Adorable pout graces Harry's face but she knows that his growling stomach will make him cave. After a few seconds, he nods his head resigned. Lily's heart once again, as always around him, bursts with so much love and affection she's afraid she might start to cry.

Leaning down she pecks him on the nose and frowns as her hand slides down his back, "You're all sweated, we're going to have to change you into new pj's and change these sheets on the occasion."

She kisses him one more time, just because she can't resist his cute face, and swipes her thumbs across his cheeks, happy to see more colour on them.

"Mummy is going to get you that soup now, alright?" she tickles his tummy, smiling as it elicits a small giggle out of him.

When she comes back to the kitchen, she finds Mary in the exact same spot by the cooker, tasting her own cooking.

"Leave me some of that, will you?" Lily says as she opens the fridge.

"If you're looking for the chicken soup I already have started to heat it up."

Lily sighs wistfully, "You're an angel."

"I have my moments."

"Does a change of sheets is also included in your benevolent services?" Lily asks sweetly.

"As long as it's not yours."

Just as she's about to left the kitchen Mary suddenly turns. "I almost forgot. Your phone has been buzzing."

"Oh, thanks," Lily says but Mary is already gone.

Stirring the soup she picks up her phone. The arrival of new message lits up the screen and her stupid treacherous heart picks up its pace as she notes who is the sender.

James has been insistently blowing off her phone for the past ten minutes, sending samples of best man's jokes for her to judge and pictures of a disarray the other groomsmen leave behind them as Mr Longbottom (the groom's mother) tries not to get an aneurysm.

 **James Potter:**  the last time I was in a room with so many people in tears was when THAT episode of 'This is us' was aired 

For some reason, her heart decides to soar at the news that his good taste in movies and tv series hadn't deteriorated with age.

 _You've clearly never been at clinic full of toddlers waiting for their vaccination shot_  

His reply is almost instantaneous.

 **James Potter:** ...or at a dentist office 

She bites down on her lip, feeling agitation stirring somewhere inside her.

_Can't relate bcs Harry loves his dentist._

This time takes longer to reply and in meantime she pours the soup into the bowl, blowing it gently to make sure it's not too hot.

 **James Potter:**  what a brave boy, unlike me who needed to be bribed with various goods and dragged across the pavement

Satisfied with the temperature, she places the bowl on a tray.

_Hahaha, your mother must have had fun with you_

**James Potter: oh no that was last week**  

She bursts out laughing; a loud, carefree laughter like she hadn't in a long time.

_You're a riot_

She presses sent and begins her way across the hallway.

Later on, once Harry is changed and fed and safely tucked back under the covers; there will be one more message waiting for her.

 **James Potter:**  oh you have no idea Evans you have no idea ;)

 

 -------------

 

Mary dropped Lily off at the University before heading off to casually drive past her ex-girlfriend's house while looking extremely good and extremely busy in her brand new car (which isn't really hers, it's her mum's, but Lily won't say that to her because air-con in that car is too kill for and she doesn't fancy using public transport in this weather).

Using the directions, given to her by the professor McGonagall herself, Lily quickly locates her office.

Before she can even raise her hand to knock on the door, it opens. A tall, tie-bearing boy stands frozen in front of her. Bright blue eyes, light blonde hair, an upturned nose on his wide and young face; smooth, unblemished skin. No worries in his life about artificial insemination. Lucky bastard.

With a brief glance at the door, she assures herself that she's at the right place; the golden letters clearly state that this is indeed Professor McGonagall's office.

"Mr Deverill please stop blocking the door and let Ms Evans in," a hard voice cuts into the awkward silence.

The boy – Mr Deverill – clears his throat and responds smiling sheepishly, "Forgive me, Professor." He plasters himself against the door, and his neck turns red, the colour rises to the tips of his ears when Lily, the shameless cougar that she is, accidentally brushes her chest against his as she sidesteps him.

Once she fully stands in the office the door closes behind her with a small click and she's left alone with Professor McGonagall.

The office itself is surprisingly cosy and doesn't scream "I'm a woman of success who lives to trash people in court". Several pictures frames neatly set on her desk, a few more on a bookcase behind her; she spots children on most of them but on the rest, there's McGonagall herself either wearing a football jersey or standing on what looks like a top of a very snowy mountain, or just looking mighty important next to some other might important people. Various diplomas decorate the warm beige walls, accompanied by some pictures that look like they were drawn by three-year-olds (Lily is well accustomed to that particular form of art).

There's also an off-white cat with the most terrifyingly light blue eyes laying in the corner and licking himself.

"That's Albus," McGonagall says, standing up to greet her.

She's a woman of impressive posture. The apparent sprite in her movements and the sternness of her taxing expression lets Lily immediately think that Professor McGonagall is not someone she'd want to make the enemy of.

"He's cute," Lily smiles up at her.

"Oh, he's a menace. Don't be fooled. He'll manipulate you out of your sweets before you'll know it."

In instant, Albus stops licking himself and turns to look at Lily. His blue eyes leisurely trace down Lily's face until they stop at her handbag. He stares at it as if he's trying to X-ray his way through it to check its contents for sweets (she does have some, but they are for Harry, she'll fight the bloody cat if she has to).

"I guess it's true what they say: the cute ones are always trouble."

McGonagall hums in agreement and extends her hand for a hand-shake.

"We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Family Law."

Lily gives a short laugh, pointing at the door. "Yeah, I know." She extends her hand as well," It's pleasure to meet you. I'm Lily Evans."

McGonagall nods her head and they sit.

"Could I offer you some tea, or are you the coffee sort?" she asks.

Lily's quick to shake her head no, "Oh, I wouldn't want to be a bother."

McGonagall simply waves her off, "It's no bother."

A few pieces of hair have already escaped her ponytail and fallen to frame her face; she tucks them behind her ear replying, "In this case, a tea would be lovely."

"Excellent," the professor springs out from her chair. "How about in meantime you tell me what brings you to me, Ms Evans?"

Taking a deep breath Lily starts to recount the events of the past few week and years before that, by the time she's finished there's a hot delightfully smelling tea set in front of her.

"This is," she clears her throat. "Indeed an unprecedented situation. Especially if your assumption will turn out to be correct."

Lily nods her head solemnly. "But he can't sue me, can he?"

"Sue you?" she repeats confused.

"For telling him."

"The way I see it you're not telling him anything. You're asking him, sharing your suspicions with him. You didn't track him down or inquire any information about him. This entire predicament is nothing more than a convoluted serendipity."

"What about Harry?"

"No rights whatsoever. Even if you started to live together and got married, he'd have to adopt him to be considered his father in the eyes of the law."

Lily lets out a relieved breath, glad that McGonagall confirmed what she found out herself.

A pensive silence falls between, as each of them is left to her own thoughts until Lily decides to speak up.

"You must think I'm a real spare. I saw a bloke on a plane and went crazy."

McGonagall's mouth gives the smallest of twitch. "Not at all, Ms Evans. You're a mother whose biggest concern is the well being of your son. Who am I to judge that? Even if it is..." she takes a sip of her tea. "A rather amusing circumstance."

Sighing Lily sets her teacup back on a platter. "The thing is that when Harry was born he looked just like me. It was the most bizarre feeling to have this small, bold version of my own head sucking into my, you know," she pauses briefly glancing quickly at McGonagall and them gesticulates vaguely at her own chest. "But then a few months have passed by and he started to change; his skins got this warm colour of light bronze, his hair grew bigger and bigger until I began to worry how he will keep his head up," she laughs at the memory.

"It was a face of a stranger but not one that I was unfamiliar with. I kept on wondering what he will look like once he gets older. Now I don't have to," she shrugs staring into the patter of her cup. "He'll be tall, a bit lanky; he'll have even more hair, maybe he'll wear glasses. He's going to be ridiculously good-looking; just like James."

She takes a deep breath and looks up at McGonagall, only to notice an odd expression on the woman's face.

"Is everything alright Professor?" she asks with concern.

She clears her throat composing herself and says, "Yes, of course, Ms Evans. I hope you won't find me imposing for asking if by chance you have some pictures of your son."

At first, Lily's taken aback by this question (because _of course,_ she has pictures of Harry; she's got plenty of his pictures, that's what seventy per cent of her phone's memory card consumes), but she silently nods and pulls out her phone from her jacket.

With a few taps and swipes on screen, she finds the most recent (and personally the favourite) picture. It was done the weekend before she left him in Scotland. He woke her up by bouncing on her bed (but still mostly on her ribs) loudly proclaiming that "today he wants to be a lion". At moments like that Lily counts her blessing for being an excessive buyer who purchases every single ridiculous thing that she finds necessary (or adorable).

The costume was a tad too big for him and the lion mane was falling into his eyes but he still proudly grinned for his mum so she could snap a picture.

She hands the phone over to McGonagall's extended hand and frowns as she hears her mutter, "Oh dear."

" 'Oh dear' what?" Lily tightens her fingers around her the hem of her skirt feeling the sense of panic arising.

McGonagall slides Lily's phone back to her and Lily can tell she does some quick thinking before leaning back in her chair and reaching something behind her.

In the next moment, a red tartan tin full of various biscuits appears in her line of vision.

"Please have one, Ms Evans."

Unsure what is going on, Lily reaches for one Ginger Newt and slowly takes a bite of it.

McGonagall peers at her over her thin wire-rimmed glasses as if she's making sure that Lily actually chews and swallows.

"I believe I have a few assumptions of my own to share with you."

She gulps, trying not to choke and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. With a trembling heart, she leans in to listen.

 

 -------------

 

  
If it wasn't for all that crowd, that quite suspiciously gathered here on Friday night, she could definitely pull it off.

Granted, counting twelve people as a crowd might be a slight exaggeration, but right now they all serve as potential witnesses.

Mary's wailing, attention-grabbing laughter doesn't help her matters at all. However judging by how red her face currently is, there's a slim chance that Mary will asphyxiate herself and Lily won't have to concern herself with the issues like body disposal or finding an alibi.

"Are you quite done?" Lily asks, irritation visceral on the edge of her voice.

Annoyed with a lack of response she snatches the car keys from Mary, who still laughs like a certifiable loon that she is, and double-checks if she locked the door.

They walk into the store and Mary switches her repertoire into a silent grinning and snickering. Lily has half-mind to shove her into the trolley and push it down the aisle. But peaches did nothing wrong and they don't deserve to feel her rage.

"Oh, come on. You must appreciate the irony of the situation," she says, gently bumping her shoulder against Lily's arm.

"That's not what irony means Alanis Morrisette."

"So touchy," Mary chuckles stopping to grab some of the remaining white split rolls and throws a quick glance at Lily who stands by their trolley with her arms cross and unamused frown on her face. "You must admit it's funny." She squeezes her thumb and index finger together, "At least a wee bit. Don't you want to laugh? I read somewhere it's a good de-stressing mechanism."

Laugh? Uhm... no, not so much. Crying or vomiting is more on a table here but her stomach is twisted into a million tightly-wound knots.

Mary throws a paper bag full of rolls into the trolley and gives it a gentle push into a tea section. "Look at things from an outsider's perspective."

"I don't think I can do that," Lily mutters knowing fully well that Mary will ignore her.

"A girl goes to school with a bloke," Magy begins and Lily has no energy left in her to correct her that they didn't exactly go to school together. "A few years later the same bloke takes the girl on some weird rebound date." Lily casts a swift glance around to satisfy herself that no other unfortunate soul is forced to listen to Mary's retelling. "Then another few years pass and she inseminates herself with his sperm. And then another few years later, they meet again on the plane, sitting side by side and shamelessly flirt their worries away."

Mary stops and frowns at two different boxes as if it would make a difference which one she chooses since they all taste the same. After a brief consideration, she shoves them under Lily's face so she'd make the decision. Without looking down at them, Lily taps the one on the left and Mary puts it back on the shelf, placing the one that was previously in her right hand into the trolley.

"And then," she carries on, laughing to herself. "And then, this girl's best friend's mother sends her to get legal aid from, what it turns out to be, the same guy's self-proclaimed fairy godmother. I mean," she stops and turns around to look at Lily, amusement visible in her eyes, "You do realise, love, that you're living in Nicholas Sparks movie, right?"

"Sparks writes books actually, not that they're any better than the movies."

Mary smiles playfully at her. "Honestly Lil, you don't have to tell him a thing. Just wait another few years and he will probably turn out to be Harry's substitute teacher or a coach to his little football league."

Lily shoves the trolley into the vegetable section, her narrowed eyes glaring at Mary, who does a poor job of masking her laughter, as she moves past her.

They remain silent for a few moments as Mary browses through various reds and greens.

"Do these carrots smell funny to you?" she finally asks, making Lily take a sniff of a bunch in her hands. "Never mind, I'll just boil that smell out," she places them in their trolley. "You darling can forget about Tinder and all that shite," she says moving onto tomatoes. "It's not for you, you're beyond that. Only you can meet your soulmate – what? – four times in a lifetime."

"He's not my soulmate."

"Well, he's your _something_ that's for sure. Once or twice can be a coincidence, but anything more than that and you must know something is up."

"Yeah, the ceiling."

"Non-believer," Mary says in singsonging voice.

Lily takes a quick look at her and sneers, and Mary sticks her tongue out at her and laughs. "Go fetch me some yoghurt if you don't want to listen to reason."

"Gladly," she says mockingly, with a deep curtsy and skits over to the chilled goods section.

Spitufylly she grabs the one with granola and blueberries (Mary hates any kind of berries). As she checks the contents label of the yoghurt something of a quite the size casts its shadow over where she's standing, but she pays no mind to it – after all, there are other customers in that shop – until the shadow decides to speak up.

"Out of all the discount supermarkets she had to walk into mine."

She freezes.

The school's guidance teacher, that Lily had to visit after her parent's death, once said that voice is one of the first things we forget about people as time passes by. Granted, there's been barely a few days since she last heard him, but she's certain she would never forget his. (Except she did forget his voice once, his face and all the rest of things that make him ultimately _him_. 2012 Lily's mind was in the gutter.)

"Yours? You own it?" she replies without turning around.

"No, god no, I wish, they have exceptional ice cream selection," he says, with a smile in his voice.

Lily tries hard not to laugh, so she presses her mouth into this almost invisible line and lets out a noise she hopes comes off as a noncommittal hum.

"I wouldn't be interested anyway," she slants a glance over her right shoulder. "I'm more of a TESCO gal myself, you see."

"Ah, a woman of refined taste."

"You know me, living the high life."

She can see his trembling lip and faintly formed dimple lines indicating that he as well tries – and fails – to withhold the laughter.

Turning to face him fully, she arches a brow in challenge.

Next few seconds are a silent game between green determination and hazel playfulness. A game that James loses way too willingly and way too brightly; it's almost too much for her to handle.

He looks even lovelier when he smiles like that. Light, happy, a picture perfect of boyish charm.

Good thing that the chill coming from this huge dairy-filled refrigerator is there to cool her off.

"Hi," she says, feeling her own lips betraying her and lifting up to form a smile.

"Hi," his voice soft and laced with something she can't quite discern, but it still makes the skin behind her ears flush.

Just as she's about to open her mouth to say something – aiming for something charming and eloquent – someone else cuts in.

"Your hair really is red."

Bewildered by the new sound, her eyes sweep the area around them and stop as they note a movement behind James who cringing takes a step to his side and with a deep sigh looks at the man standing there.

He's few inches shorter than James, and his body slimmer but there's still an outline of muscles visible underneath his white t-shirt. Where James is all warm colours, messy hair and boisterous laughter, this guy with casual elegance makes monochromatic look lively and alluring.

She's seen him before. On one of the various pictures, James sent her. He's either Peter, Remus or Sirius. Unless he's Frank, but she doubts it, he doesn't emit the wedding jitters vibe.

"Perceptive, aren't you?" she asks him, sending a questioning look at James who just smiles at her return.

"They were described by someone who is prone to exaggeration so I had my doubts."

Now, she fully turns to look at James amused. He, imperturbable, shrugs and says, "Yeah, I was gushing about you to some people. I'm not embarrassed."

"Some people?" she arches her brow.

"Just anyone who would listen."

Lily ducks her head away to hide a smile, knowing full well nothing will wipe the smug expression off their faces.

"This my best mate-slash-brother-slash-roommate-slash-business partner, Sirius," James claps him on the back.

"Wow, that's a lot of functions," she laughs, nodding her head in greeting.

"I'm a busy man and he pays well."

They keep on laughing until Mary approaches them and another round of introductions is made.

"So what are you doing here?" Lily finally asks them, looking mostly at James.

"We're here for the wedding," he answers.

"At Lidl? Fancy," Mary speaks up.

This makes Sirius narrow his eyes at her and say, "Careful there. You know what they say about sarcasm being the lowest form of wit."

She smiles sweetly at him in return. "Well good news for you. You won't have any problems understanding me then."

As their friends glare at each other James uses the opportunity to lean in closer to Lily, "The wedding is in Mansfield Traquair."

"That's nice," she whispers back smiling. "But what are you doing all the way over here, at West Granton?"

"Sirius wanted to go for a walk. He felt too cupped up in the there."

"Everything is so pink in there," Sirius voice loud, startling them both.

"You love pink, "James says.

Sirius argues, "On me, not around me."

"Did you try rolling around on the floor?" Mary suggests. "Maybe something will rub off on you."

Sirus darts his eyes at her and then lets his head follow in turn, slowly tilting it sideways all while fixing her with a glare.

James sighs and racks his hand through his hair. "Please, don't encourage him."

Mary just chuckles and says to Lily with a wink, "I'll go find that thing I came here for." And then she's gone.

"What did she come here for?" Sirius asks Lily, curiously.

"I honestly haven't the faintest I wasn't really listening."

Sirius nods absentmindedly and turns to James, "I s'ppose you want me to go and look for something as well?" He puts air quotes around “something" with his free hand.

"That'd be brill. Thanks, mate," James responds without looking at him, and Lily notices that he's been watching her this entire time.

There it is. That look again. That warmth spilling softness in his eyes that has no place to be there. Not now. Not here.

"Hi," she says, trying to sound casual.

If it's possible his smile gets even softer, the look in his eyes more dazed. "Hi," he says back.

They both share a look knowing what comes next. "Again," they say in unison.

When laughter subsides, James asks, "So how are you? How's Harry?"

"I'm well, thank you. And Harry is already up and about, trying to convince me he wasn't that sick in the first place."

"Well, I'm glad to hear," he sounds genuinely pleased.

"How about you? All set for the wedding?"

"I believe so, " he says, putting his hands in his pockets. "Although I have to admit that my sole responsibility is to keep Frank sane, which means I have to keep his mother away from him. Sirius provides a great distraction."

Lily glances over her shoulder to where Sirius is currently passionately sniffing his way through the apples.

"Yeah, I bet."

"Did you book your flight already?" James's question draws her attention back to him.

"Oh, no. I think we will stick around here for a while. I promised Harry that we were going to sight-see when I get back, but then he got sick, so we had to postpone it."

"Right," he says. "What are you going to see?"

"The International Children's Festival starts tomorrow at the National Museum, I wanted to take him there. Maybe we'll do a Moonwalk with Mary if our conditions will let us."

"Sounds fun."

Lily nods in agreement. "What about you?"

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Well, I was going to subtly ask you when is your flight so I could sneakily book mine at the same time. But I guess I have one more reason to let Sirius drag me into that Whiskey festival."

Oh, god. Why is he doing this? "Tell Sirius he's very welcome."

"Don't worry, I will."

She ought to stop looking him in the eyes. It's too dangerous. There's no place in her life right now even for a little bit dangerous, and there's nothing "a little bit" about James.

"Nothing urgent in London?"

He slowly shakes his head and lets his gaze drop to her mouth. "Nah, everything I need is right here."

It's getting too warm in here. Someone should check these fridges, they don't seem to work properly.

"Besides, "James shrugs. "We will probably too hungover to move."

"Poor you," she coos mockingly.

"Nothing that a cup of coffee won't fix."

"Honestly water would do you more good."

He laughs. "Bloody hell woman you've ruined my line. I was going to ask you for a coffee. And now what? 'Do you want to have some water with me' doesn't have the same level of cool."

Lily scrunches her nose. "I think it's more in the way you say it that what you say in this case."

"Really?" he perks up, then after some quick thinking he takes a step back from her. "Very well."

With a wink, he spins on his heels which gives Lily a front seat view to his broad shoulders (she absolutely does not let her eyes drop to his bum; maybe just a glimpse, there's nothing wrong with that ) and starts to fumble with few buttons of his shirt. Glancing around she makes sure no one bears witness to this mini striptease, luckily store is almost empty and the only person in vicinity paying them any mind is Mary who does a poor job of camouflaging herself behind the cauliflowers.

Before she can ask James what the hell is he doing, he faces her again. His hair even more tousled, black stubble breaking out along his jawline, three buttons of his light cyan shirt undone revealing his smooth soft-looking skin.

His hands firmly on his hips as he licks his button lip and then bites down on its corner. His eyes slowly meet hers and he speaks in a deliberately lowered voice.

"Evans..."

She doesn't last more than two seconds before bursting out laughing.

"Alright, alright. Please stop," she begs him, wiping few stray tears from her eyes. "I'll have your water with you."

"I knew it, works every time," he pulls himself as straight as he can and proudly announces, with his chin up in the air.

"Don't be mistaken, it's pity laughter."

He shrugs. "I'll take it."

When she can catch her breath again, he asks, "So, Monday?"

"So soon after the wedding?"

"Don't be cruel. Don't deny a man his water."

"Sorry, sorry," she laughs again. " Fine, Monday."

He beams. "Great, I love Mondays."

"No one loves Mondays."

"I do now."

The smile on her face doesn't waver. "Do you have some specific place in mind?"

He closes his eyes and pouts in thought. "Will it be alright with you, if I text you the address later? I have to ask my source on the streets."

"Sure, no problem."

"Great." Soon his face visibly relaxes and he lets out a long breath. "Ugh, I feel so much lighter now."

"Why?"

"I was stressing over asking you out for the past few days."

"You were?"

"You have no idea."

"That's silly. We've talked about meeting during the flight."

"Yeah, but you know," he shrugs sheepishly. "Sometimes people say that to be nice, so I wasn't sure... But it doesn't matter 'cause we're meeting on Monday."

His smile is contagious and from simply looking at him, Lily feels the corners of her mouth curl.

She raises her hand to brush her hair away from her eyes, but then James's hand is suddenly gently grasping hers and she momentarily forgets to move.

"Oh God, it's already so late?!" he cries still holding her hand by her watch-clad wrist. "This is not good," he keeps on muttering some more under his nose.

"Why do you have a curfew?"

He glares at her playfully in return. "No, I just have this thing where I turn into ogre as the sun goes down."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I figured I should keep something for a second date."

"You absolutely should have told me before the first one. Maybe I happen to have a strong anti-ogre policy?"

"Is this going to be a dealbreaker?"

"Don't know yet."

"Bugger, I knew it's going to be either this or the fact that I eat tomatoes like apples."

"What?" she recoils at this but he just grins down at her and places one quick kiss on her hand before letting it go.

"I will tell you all about it on Monday," he says already walking away. "I will call you, alright?" he briefly stops waiting for her to nod in response.

With one last smile, he disappears down the aisle.

A warm arm slides over her shoulders, and Mary's question brings her back from the daze. "So, Monday?"

Lily looks up at her and smiles nodding, "Monday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who counted that James will meet Harry in this chapter, I will only implore for patience. 
> 
> There will be part three for a reason (well, part three and an epilogue technically).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable!
> 
> There might be part 2.
> 
> Possibly.
> 
> And I apologise again.
> 
> But at least I learned that I have no time management skills.
> 
> As if I didn't know that already.
> 
> EDIT: Part two is definitely happening.


End file.
